Promise Us, Never Again
by Asu91
Summary: My take on Newt's suicide attempt. Spoilers for The Death Cure regarding the suicide attempt.


**I needed this for my other fic 'The Promise'. In the end it got so long that I decided to upload it as a standalone one-shot. Enjoy!**

* * *

"And… nothing. Again," sighed Minho and pulled out pen and pad. Once again they had rounded the last corner of section 7 and met a dead-end. Newt just stood there, hands in his pockets and kicking little stones on the ground.

"You can run ahead," his partner told him, mapping the last part of the Maze for that day. "I've got this."

"You sure?" asked Newt, careful to conceal the hope in this voice.

"Sure. I'm right behind you," affirmed Minho, focused on his scribbling. Then, suddenly, he stopped and looked at his friend, a smirk on his face. "Unless you think you'll get lost," he teased.

"Ha-ha," commented Newt drily. He wasn't in the mood for jokes. But he welcomed the offer. "See you in a bit," he added and took off.

"Save me some of Frypan's stew!" Minho shouted after him but the Keeper of the Runners was already gone.

* * *

"This is it," mumbled Newt when he had climbed up half the wall. He turned around, holding on to vines of ivy, and faced the ground below. He had a thing about heights he realized then and there. So even if he had wanted to he couldn't climb any higher. This would have to do. Another glance down. He calculated the distance. "Should be enough." Had to be enough. He had been good at Math.

The thought came out of nowhere. Just something that popped into his mind at his point while he was trying to gather up the courage for what he was about to do. He faintly remembered that there had been this thing called 'school' where children had gone for education. He also recalled 'Math' being one of the subjects taught. He just didn't remember ever _attending_ school. Nor whether an institution like that still existed outside the walls of the prison he had grown to hate so much. At times he had these weird dreams of two adults, a man and a woman, as well as a girl and a dog. All of them blond like him. He liked to think that he remembered his family in these dreams. It was all he could hope for. Memories of himself started and ended with the Glade.

Oh, how he hated that place. Not the people, though. Over the last year he had formed close relationships, found two boys he proudly called his best friends. But everything else, the Glade, the Maze, the not-knowing, the prison that held them captive, all that was what he despised and why he was clinging to the wall at sunset, minutes before the Doors would close.

* * *

At the same time Minho collapsed into the grass right behind the Doors of the Glade, out of breath and stamina. Panting, he rolled onto his back and he pulled his water bottle out of backpack only to find it empty.

"Ah, shuck it," he rasped out and threw it over his head into the depth of the Glade.

"Hey, shuck-face, d'you mind?" an angry voice scolded him.

A second later a tall, dark-skinned boy stood in front of the Runner, blocking out the setting sun. Holding the empty bottle in his hand, he gave him a stern look.

"Sorry, Alby," mumbled the Asian boy and sounded like he couldn't care less. A second later the bottle connected with his face. "Ow! Shuck, man, what's your problem?"

"Where'd you leave Newt?"

"What do you mean where did I leave–" Minho swung himself into a sitting position and looked questioningly at the second-in-command. "He's not back yet?"

"Nope. You two split up? That's against the rules, slinthead."

"Yeah, I know," said Minho impatiently, not very interested in their rules but rather in the absence of their friend. "That's weird. I was mapping the rest of the Maze and told him to run ahead. He should've been back for twenty minutes at least."

"Well, he's not!" snapped Alby and kicked the Runner in the shins. "Where is he?"  
"How would I know?" shot Minho back and got on his feet, scratching the back of his head. "Shuck it, when I told about getting lost I was only kidding."

"Newt knows the Maze in and out. He ain't getting lost."

"Right."

"Then where is he?"

"Slim it, shank. Why are you klunking your pants?"

Alby thought for a moment. "Newt seem strange to you today?"

"Not more than usually. Just quiet."

"Been that way for a while."

"Yeah, for a week or so."

"Since Box Day…," they said in unison.

Minho glanced at his watch. "The Doors close in half an hour. I'm gonna go back in and look for him."

He stepped up, heading for the Maze but Alby held out his hand to stop him.

"You look like klunk. Go find some water and catch your breath. I'm going."

"Whaaat? But that's against the rules," teased the Asian playfully. "Nick's gonna throw you in the Slammer for that."

"Yeah, _but it's Newt_."

And with that he turned around and ran past the Doors.

* * *

The idea had come to Newt a few days ago after their one year anniversary in the Glade which they had titled Box Day. One year of trying to solve a riddle that couldn't be solved, six months of running through a maze without an exit, being imprisoned by mysterious people for no fathomable reason while simply trying to survive.

He just couldn't do it anymore.

He knew it was bloody cowardly thing to do a well. _The shuckiest shuck thing in the world_ as his friend Minho would phrase it. Newt was the Keeper of the Runners. The Gladers looked up to him, had faith in him… yet he would have to crush that faith today. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted to escape that place. One way or another…

And so he jumped.

As gravity pulled him down toward the solid ground he whispered a weak "I'm sorry." before he closed his eyes and waited.

He hit the ground hard. During the fall his body had shifted so that his legs made first contact with the stony ground. He heard several loud cracking noises that sent a chill down his spine. Nausea filled him up. And he realized…

It hadn't worked.

He was still alive.

_Bloody he_ –

Before he could finish that thought he was suddenly hit with an enormous physical pain. A twitch that ran through him and forced him to move his limbs. He cried out when another excruciating pain through his right leg. Moving it was out of question. Even keeping it still hurt like a mother. _Everything_ hurt. He just wanted it to stop. Not feel anything…

"Newt! Call out if you can hear me!"

The voice of his best friend reached his ears and he regretted to have chosen a wall so close to the Glade. He was a bloody coward after all.

He had completely lost the track of time but he guessed the closing of the Doors was imminent so he hoped that Alby would just realize how late it was and return to the Glade before he found him…

"_Newt!_"

No such luck.

"Newt!" Footsteps. "Shuck it, what happened to you?"

Slowly, Newt opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of his best friend who crouched on the ground beside him. The whole world started to spin. He groaned.

"Go away."

"Shuck it, what happened to you?"

"I said GO AWAY!" yelled Newt and cried out in pain right after that, holding his injured leg.

"Please…just go," he whimpered between clenched teeth.

"I won't," declared Alby firmly. "The Doors are about to close –"

"Just leave me to the Grievers. My leg's busted. I'm not gonna make it back, anyway."

"Slim it, you idiot. You must've jacked your head or somethin'."

"_Alby_." Newt opened his eyes and looked at his friend, trying to convey with one gaze the words his lips couldn't form, willing him to understand and it worked.

"No…" For a moment pure horror flashed across Alby's features. Then his expression hardened and shook his head. "No way. Forget it. I'm gonna get you back to the Glade. Even if I have to drag you there!"

The second in charge rose to his feet. His hands tugged under his friend's arms, he started to drag him along the path back to the Glade.

"No!" Panic masked the Runners' voice as he began to flail. He couldn't go back to the Glade. The Med-Jacks would fix him up and then he had to come back here. Keep running through the bugging Maze. On and on and…

"No! Alby, don't! Just leave me here! I want this! I'm finished!"

"Sorry, my friend," said the other boy genuinely and continued to drag him along. "I can't do that. Stop struggling, you're only hurting yourself!"

But Newt was beside himself. With all of his might he wriggled against Alby's grip, trying to break free while screaming at the pain the movement brought him. He was hysterical.

"No, please, Alby! Don't! I just want to die! Please! PLEASE!

"Newt! I'm serious, you'll go into shock if you don't–!" Silence. "Newt?" The screaming and the flailing had suddenly come to an end. Newt's body had gone completely limp. The boy's eyes were closed. He had passed out. Alby increased his pace.

* * *

They were only a few yards away from the Glade when the ground below started to shake and a loud rumbling announced the closing of the Doors. Panic rose in him. Even though he wasn't a Runner himself he knew enough about the Maze to be terrified of it. And no one had ever survived a night in the Maze…

"Alby!"

Minho had been standing by the Door, impatiently pacing back and forth, waiting for his friends to return. When he finally saw Alby rounding a corner, dragging Newt along, the Doors started to close. He didn't think twice, sprinted toward them and lifted Newt's feet off the ground. Both of them carrying their friend, they squeezed through the opening Doors just in time before the Doors sealed shut for the night. All three of them collapsed to the ground.

The impact woke Newt up. For a moment he was disoriented and looked around. When he finally realized where he was his face fell. His gaze found Alby's.

"I hate you," he rasped out before he fainted again.

Minho who had followed the short exchange looked at Alby in confusion. The fellow Glader was obviously hurt but then he shook his head and turned away.

"MED-JACKS!" he roared, his voice resonating in the whole Glade.

There was no need to yell though. Jeff and Clint, the closest thing they had to doctors were already running up to them, together with their leader Nick and a few curious Gladers.

"What happened?" demanded Nick when he reached them.

Alby ignored him. He turned to the med-jacks. "His leg's busted," he told them. "But check him for more injuries. He was in serious pain."

Jeff and Clint nodded dutifully before lifting the still unconscious Newt off the ground and carrying him over to Homestead. Minho and Alby rose to their feet as well.

"Alby," Nick urged. "I need to know what happened."

"Newt got lost," Minho came to his rescue before Alby could even open his mouth. "I sent him home early while I was still mapping," the Runner added truthfully now.

Nick didn't seem convinced. "Newt's the Keeper of the Runners. He's never lost his way inside the Maze."

"Well, there's a first time for everything!" Minho snapped. "Besides, he was probably dehydrated. He didn't bring enough water today so I sent him ahead before he fainted on me."

Surprised, Alby stared him. He decided then and there that the truth would only be known to him, Minho and the Maze.

"When Minho returned I realized Newt was still inside the Maze. I went inside to look for him and found him like this. Maybe a Griever got to him."

"I see," Nick said, still not completely convinced. It was common knowledge that the Grievers usually came out at night and not in broad daylight, however it had happened in the past. "You broke the rules, you know that, right?" he continued. "Both of you. I should banish you for that."

"It's Newt!" Both Alby and Minho yelled, not even trying to hide their lack of interest in the rules.

"Still," insisted their leader. "We established these rules for a reason. No diner for you tonight, Alby." Alby just rolled his eyes at the incredulous sentence. "With Newt injured we're one Runner down, Minho, so I can't have you lose your strength. You'll spend the night in the Slammer instead."

The Runner just waved it off, uttering a row of curses before he and Alby turned their backs on them and headed for Homestead.

* * *

After getting an update on Newt's condition Nick had changed his mind and revoked the sentences for Alby and Minho. Alby got his dinner and Minho didn't have to spend the night in the Slammer. In the end however even Alby wished Nick had stuck to his original plan.

After dinner they had climbed up to the top floor of Homestead to check up on their injured friend. Both worrying until they were sick to their stomach. But Clint and Jeff had thrown them out five minutes later because they needed space to work. It was in that moment that Minho completely lost it.

He ran out of Homestead, jumping down the stairs and into the middle of the Glade. Raising his arms in surrender he spun around and started shouting.

"I know you're out there! I know you can see me! I know you can hear me, too!" he yelled at no one in particular. "You enjoy this?! Is this what you want, you slintheads?! I wish you would have the courage to show your shuckfaces so I could punch you right in the middle of it you despicable – "

"_Minho!_"

A hand suddenly clasped over Minho's mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. Struggling against it, Minho spun around to see Alby with a horrified expression on his face.

"Are you out your mind, slinthead?! Slim it, will you!" he ordered, looking around the Glade in panic as if he feared the Apocalypse would drop on them right then and there.

The Gladers had formed a large group in front of Homestead staring at the two boys in bewilderment. One of them was Nick who was beyond angry when he stalked up to them.

"What the shuck do you think you're doing?"

"I've got it, Nick," Alby assured him before turning to the other Gladers. "Nothin' to see here. Go back inside. Now!"

Shrugging the group dissipated and returned to their previous activities.

"Alright that's it," said Nick, glaring at Minho. "You're spending the night in the Slammer. You want to get us killed? Because that's definitely gonna happen if you challenge the Creators."

"I don't care about these shuckfaces – " spat Minho but was once again cut off by Alby.

"I said slim it! Man, I'm serious, don't make me shut you up." He turned to Nick. "_I've got it_," he emphasized. He just wanted Nick to leave so he could talk to Minho in private. He knew he was pretty messed up by the whole thing, he was too. "Really. Go. If I need any help I'll call you."

"Okay," Nick relented. "Last warning," he added to Minho before turning around and walking back to Homestead.

By that time Alby still had a hand placed on Minho's shoulder to hold him back if necessary. The Asian boy quickly shook it off.

"Why did you stop me? You know I'm right!"

"Why are you being a complete klunkhead?" shot Alby back. "Look," he continued a little calmer. "I know you're upset because of Newt. I'm, too – "

"Is it true?" Minho interrupted him, defeat in his voice. "Did he really…?"

He couldn't even voice it. The thought of Newt wanting to commit suicide hurt immensely.

"Yes. He did," Alby answered solemnly. "When I found him he didn't even want me to take him back. Told me I should leave him to the Grievers."

Minho cursed. "I didn't know it was that bad. I didn't see it."

"Don't blame yourself, shank. I didn't either. He hid it well."

"What are we gonna do now? We can't lose him, Alby."

"I know. We gotta look after him now. I'm gonna assign someone watching over him all the time. Can't have him try it again."

"Good that."

* * *

_Pain._ The first thing Newt felt when he woke up was pain. The last twelve hours had been nothing but a blur. Every now and then he had regained consciousness for nothing more than a few minutes before passing out again because the pain was just too much for him to handle. He had clenched his teeth together and kept it together as best as he could while the Med-Jacks had checked his body for more injuries than just his busted leg. Telling by the sling tied across his chest and shoulder that held his left arm in place he now realized he had broken a couple bones more.

Of course they had asked him what had happened. Nothing personal. They just wanted to make sure he hadn't suffered even more serious damage, for instance on his organs. He was glad he had never stayed awake long enough to give them an answer. At some point they had stopped to ask altogether which Newt appreciated very much. He had no intention of sharing his near-death experience with anyone. It already ticked him off that Alby knew about it. Bloody hell… And it definitely ticked him off that Alby hadn't just left him to die as he had asked him to.

However, even though he had missed his endgame his jump had still achieved something. He knew he was in no condition to return to the Maze for a while and from the fragments he had caught during his short conscious moments he knew he wouldn't step into the Maze ever again.

"…shucked up his leg pretty good…"

"…ain't running no more..."

"…was afraid you'd say that."

"…lucky if he'll walk…"

"…arm's busted too."

"…couple of rips broken…"

"…probably a concussion…"

"Poor shank."

Yes, what a poor bloody shank he was. He was no good so what did they still want with him? Why cling to him so badly? Why prolong his sorry existence?

These were the questions that occupied his mind after he woke up the next morning, lying in the bed in the room at the top floor of Homestead. The closest thing they had to a recovery room. Usually Gladers who got stung were brought here while they went through the Changing. They must really pity him.

At some point the door opened and his two best friends entered the room. For a split second Newt contemplated pretending to be out since he had no desire to talk to them but then he decided against it.

"Hey," Alby greeted him and sat down on the bed beside him. Minho just nodded and took a seat on the other side of the bed.

None of them said anything else. Their gazes met and then found a spot on the floor, the wall or on the bed that caught their interest. After a while Newt broke the silence.

"You should by running by now," he told Minho.

The boy immediately shook his head. "No one's going back in until we know what happened to you. That's what I told Alby here and he ran it by Nick."

"Nick actually agreed to this?" Newt asked skeptical.

"He's scared. Like all those shanks out there. They think you got attacked by Griever."

"But no one knows the truth, no one but us" explained Alby, waving his hand around the three of them. "And we ain't telling anyone."

Newt simply nodded, then grimaced. Yes, definitely a concussion.

"Asked for meds last night while you were out," the second-in-charge told him then. "Put it on the list. Creators send their condolences. You gotta pull through, though."

Minho spat out a bunch of curses. Alby hushed him and gave him stern look but Minho simply shrugged at him and turned to the blond, looking sad.

"I blame myself, you know," he informed him. "Nearly spent the night in the Slammer for it," he added, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it.

Feeling uncomfortable, Newt stared at a spot on the opposite wall. He couldn't look at them.

"You should've left me there," he whispered.

"No way!" the Runner exclaimed. "You can't be serious."

And Alby added "Couldn't do that. We need you, Newt."

"Why'd you do it?" demanded Minho.

"I can't take it, anymore."

"Yes, but you're not alone! You've got us! We're in this together!"

You a_re not alone…_ thought Newt but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't need to. The truth hung heavily in the air between them.

"Look," Alby said now. "Those boys out there? Our friends? They actually got it worse than you."

"Alby!"

Minho stared at the second in command in shock. He understood that Alby was angry at Newt. Part of him was, too. Instead of abandoning them he should have thought of coming to them. They would have done their best to make him feel better. They always did when one of them got sad. Needless to say that happened a lot. But he still thought Alby went a little too far. Because all that mirrored Newt's face in that moment was sadness. Alby's reproach made him hang his had in guilty surrender.

"Look at me, you dumb shank!" Alby roared. Newt and Minho both startled at the rise of his voice. Newt slowly raised his head to meet his friend's fiery gaze. "They've got it worse," Alby continued. "Because they can't do nothin' about our situation. They just do their part. They do their job and rely on _us_ to do somethin' 'bout it. They put all their hope in us. _In you, Newt_." The blond looked at him, hanging on his every word. "Because from the moment we came here it was you who never got lazy. You always tried to figure this place out. When all of us sat on our butts klunkin' our pants and cryin' you'd get up and look for a way out. It was your idea to run through the Maze and, when you didn't find an exit, to look for a pattern to solve this buggin' thing. You never gave up. People depend on you. You give 'em hope."

Newt's eyes moistened. A single perfect tear slipped out of them and ran down his cheek. Alby's words really got to him. They were the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to him while at the same time they were the cruelest as well because of the undeniable truth.

"Not anymore," he sobbed. "I shucked it all up. I can't run anymore. My leg's busted for good. How can I give people hope when I've got nothing left?"

"Newt-" began Minho but the blond cut him off.

"Let me finish, shank." He took a deep breath to collect himself. "But _you_ can." All sadness was washed from his face. Instead he looked at the Asian boy with fierce determination. "Minho, you're the fastest Runner of us all. You're smart and unlike me you actually have the strength to keep doing this."

Minho looked at him in confusion. "Newt, what exactly are you-"

"I want you to replace me as the Keeper of the Runners," declared the blond. "You're my friend and I trust you. I know you will pull this off. Do what I couldn't. Get us out of here."

"Newt…" Minho was completely taken aback. The proposal came out of nowhere. He hadn't been a Runner that long. Replaced a poor shank that kicked the bucket early by falling over the cliff. What Newt was proposing was insane. "Don't you need to call a Gathering because you can decide that? What about Nick?" he asked.

"You can go tell him that as the Keeper of the Runners I don't bloody care about his opinion. When I step down I decide who replaces me. He's got no say in the matter. I'm making you the Keeper, period."

He looked at Alby for resistance but was only met with a firm nod in agreement. It was then that something clicked inside Minho. He realized how important this was, not only for Newt's recovery but for every one of those poor shanks in the Glade who still kept the faintest shred of hope for a better life out there.

"Okay," he agreed then. "But one condition."

Newt rolled his eyes at that. "What bloody condition then?"

"You have to promise us that you will never try to quit again. Not for as long we're in here and not if we find a way out. Never again."

Newt gulped. He already knew that he couldn't make that promise. Not feeing the way he felt at that moment. He was tired. So tired of this life. And who was to say it was better out there? Past the Maze? They didn't know what fate awaited them there. For all they knew it could be even worse.

"Minho…"

"I think you need a little incentive, am I right?" Alby said then, a smile forming on his lips. "Like a purpose? Well, I think I've got one for ya."

Newt looked at him in curiosity, as did Minho. "I'm only second-in-command but I could still use a little help running the place."

"A right hand man for the right hand man?" Minho snickered.

It sounded so ridiculously funny that even Newt had to chuckle. Then he hissed and grimaced at the pain surging through him. Clenching his teeth he held his leg and took deep breaths.

"Tell me more," he muttered, intrigued by the idea.

"I want someone taking care of our Greenies. We all remember how shucked up we were when we came up here. Confused, scared. We've done a good job so far making them part of our family but I still think someone should be assigned to look after them every day. Make sure they don't get lazy, get used to this place and don't lose hope. I want you to be that person, Newt."

The blond blinked. "Me?"

"Of course! That's a great idea!" Minho chimed in. "You're good with people, Newt. From the moment we woke up here. You've always looked after us. Made sure we were doing okay."

"Exactly," agreed Alby, nodding. "So what do you say, man? You in?"

Newt thought about it for a moment. If he agreed, he would have to continue his life in this prison which was exactly what he had wanted to escape from a day ago. He wasn't sure he had the strength to do it. But then he looked up at the two boys he proudly called his best friends and was amazed at the glimmering hope in their eyes. Yes, they were stuck in a crappy situation and they might never get out of it. Still, the hope the two held was infectious. He trusted them with all his heart, with his life even. Looking at Minho, he had hardly ever seen such unwavering determination in another Glader. He knew he would get them out. That he was sure of.

So he turned to Alby with a faint smile on his lips. "Okay. I'm in."

"And?" urged Minho impatiently, his eyes narrowed.

"And I promise," assured Newt. "It's not like you're leaving me any choice anyway, right?"

"Right," the two boys said in unison and then attacked him in a big hug.


End file.
